Chapter Text
Chapter 2: A Shot of Truth
Prompt: Enemies
I spent the next hour pretending I wasn’t unravelling inside, forcing myself through the motions—smiling, pouring, laughing like my brain wasn’t crafting elaborate excuses or, alternatively, escape plans involving a full-speed sprint into Sandton traffic.
I even tried making an escape through the bathroom, forgetting that there were no windows in there; only an air-conditioning vent which was unfortunately, for me, way too small. I nearly messed up several drink orders, but Lyle who picked up on my shift in mood, managed to catch my mistakes before it was received by the patrons. I brushed off his questions, attributing my errors to severe insomnia that was likely now catching up to me, but he still looked unconvinced. We were used to sleepless nights; it came with the profession, and I’d never been this absent-minded before.
Now, I was out of options.
Marcus sat perched on the edge of his desk, the image of calm and collected, while I sat before him, fingers twisting in my lap, knee bouncing like it had a life of its own.
“It’s not drugs!” I blurted, unable to withstand the tension between us any longer. My voice cracked like a guilty teenager caught in the act. I cringed, heat crawling up my neck, feeling like some rebellious student trying to convince their teacher that the contraband in their backpack wasn't what it looked like.
“I know it’s not drugs,” he said, voice maddeningly composed.
“I know you, Jojo. That’s not your style. Anyway, what would be the point? Unless you’re scouting for a sugar daddy?” He wiggled his eyebrows. He folded his arms, brows creasing now.
“But if they react badly, this is on you and me, so I still need to know.”
“You’re being weirdly cool about me potentially poisoning your customers,” I said, squinting at him. Suspicion nibbled at the edges of my panic.
I wasn’t completely relieved but sensing that I wasn’t about to lose my job helped my body ease a fraction.
How would I admit my biggest kept secret?
Would his perception of me change completely?
And if he knew, could he be trusted?
Would he rat me out to the authorities and gods knew who else? My thoughts were like a trapped birds in my overwrought brain.
He must’ve seen the spiralling thoughts, because his tone softened.
“I can’t help you if you don’t trust me, Jojo.” He reached out and rested a hand on my knee. The bounce stopped. So did my breath. His touch was warm. Solid. Calming.
I exhaled and closed my eyes.
“I have magic.” I whispered the confession, my voice trembling. I realised how ridiculous this sounded and hastily added, “I specialise in making tonics to help people feel better; like chamomile helps to calm, only these effects are more overt, especially when combined with alcohol.”
I didn’t dare look at him.
“Obviously it has to be done perfectly, or it there will be consequences; too much of a good thing, you know? But I’ve been perfecting it for years now, so I swear I know what I’m doing.”
It was easier to keep talking to the floor, though I briefly flicked my eyes to his face, which remained impassive.
“I just —” I paused for the first time, taking a breath, remembering the emotion I stared at the floor. My voice cracked, softened into memory.
“There was a woman. Grieving. I felt it. I wanted to help. And that man—he was drowning in hopelessness. So I gave him a boost. Just a nudge. Just enough.”
I wasn’t sure if I sounded like a healer or an addict justifying her fix. The silence between us stretched, brittle and punishing. My throat tightened. I covered my face with both hands, bracing for judgment.
“You’re like… a witch?” Marcus said, drawing out the words, his tone half awe, half mischief.
I peeked through my fingers. He was grinning.
“A real-life Harry Potter brewing potions?” He asked, genuine curiosity displayed on his face.
“Err —” I stuttered uncertainly. Was he making fun of me?
“This is brilliant, Jo!” He shot to his feet, energy sparking off him like an electric storm.
“I knew it had to be something special! I saw it with my own eyes. At first, I thought it was a sweetener, but when I checked—nothing there. Then Lyle came back and confirmed it. You changed that woman’s entire mood.”
He was pacing now, hands flying.My eyes followed him up and down the room.
“You can solve things like depression and make people feel better about themselves! What about making them feel something else, say — lust?” Marcus’s eyes glittered with joy and mischief at the possibility.
“Well, yes, with an infusion of an aphrodisiac that’s easy.” I answered unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips, when Marcus punched the air.
Marcus threw a fist into the air. “YES!” He laughed, full-bodied and triumphant.
“I’ve never actually used it on anyone,” I added quickly. “I’ve only tested it on myself. So I’d need someone willing to—”
Marcus waved a hand. “We’ll find volunteers.”
“Gods, Jo,” he said, spinning back toward me. “We could take this way beyond a drop here and there. This is big. We could have people begging for it. Eating out the palm of our hands.”
His hands mimed the image, as if holding a glittering possibility.
A small flicker of unease flared. The look in his eyes; ambition, sharp and eager, wasn’t quite the same as the soft joy I’d felt when helping that grieving woman.
Still, his excitement was infectious. My nerves couldn’t help but join the party.
“We can honestly take this global Jo. Just think about it!” Marcus’s excitement was so infectious, it was difficult to slow my thoughts.
I settled on the only one that had remained consistent.
“So, I can trust you to keep my secret?” I asked tentatively.
In answer, Marcus stopped in front of me. I could smell his spicy citrus cologne. He placed a finger under my chin to draw my eyes to his.
For the millionth time that night, my heart threatened to burst out my chest as he drew closer. His forest-green eyes dipped to my lips. His mouth covered mine. The slight scratch of stubble against my chin made my knees wobble. He scooped me to closer with his arm, his hand splayed warm and wide across my lower back. Self-consciously, I remembered how sweaty I’d been and tried to disentangle myself. When we broke the kiss, Marcus and I were both heaving. He rested his forehead against mine.
“You’re perfect, Jo.” He murmured. “Everything about you.”
The words landed like a warm palm on my chest, steadying my racing heart.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” he said. His eyes held a vulnerability I hadn’t expected.
The butterflies returned in full force.
“Me too,” I whispered breathlessly.
He kissed me again, soft and sweetly.
“How about we do this together?” he said. “Partners?” Partners. Not Enemies.
His grin, so hopeful and bright, made my chest ache.
“Partners,” I echoed, holding out my hand.
Marcus ignored it. He scooped me up instead, spinning me around the room like a man who’d just won the lottery. I shrieked, laughter spilling out of me, while he planted kisses wherever he could reach.